Unreadable
by Lupin807
Summary: Harry Potter, a newly trained Auror, has received an assignment from his direct superior: Investigate Malfoy Manor for evidence to the wanted Death Eater family's whereabouts. He certainly wasn't expecting to find Draco Malfoy himself.


"I should have stayed at Hogwarts." Harry Potter muttered to himself, walking briskly along the yew hedge-lined pathway and dreading every step. "I should have just stayed there and helped with the repairs and then joined a damn quidditch te-" Something stark white appeared in his peripheral vision, cutting his self-berating short. He whipped around toward the offending thing and pointed a tightly gripped wand at it so fast, it took him a moment to register what it was.

"A peacock?" he whispered in bewilderment, lowering his wand as unwanted memories began flooding their way back into his mind. As soon as his heart rate returned to normal, Harry removed his gaze from the majestic bird and continued towards the manor ahead. The last time he had seen that albino peacock he was being dragged up this path against his will, along with Dean, Griphook, Ron and Hermione.

A pang of guilt stabbed Harry through his gut at the thought of Ron. One month ago, he had finally decided to break things off with Ginny, simultaneously deciding not to tell anyone else. A week later, Ron had come barging into the office demanding Harry to immediately explain himself. Harry winced as he replayed his own explanation in his mind's eye.

"I didn't mean it as in forever, just- just not right now."

That didn't go over so well. Ron ranted loud enough for the whole department to hear, ending with "I'll be damned if my sister sits at your beck and call!" and a fist slamming down on to the breakroom table. Ron had left before Harry could explain further, and when he arrived home to their shared flat later that night, Ron's things were gone.

"He's at George's," Hermione's head from Hogwarts in his small fireplace explained. "He needs some time alone to process everything, Harry. Much the same as you." Harry had just been about to explain everything to her, but he realized she already understood. He also realized that the path had ended at some point and he had been standing in front of a very large front door for at least 30 seconds.

Should he ring the bell? Knock politely? Pound on the door with one fist and threateningly shout, _'Auror Department, open up!'_? He decided against a barbaric approach and proceeded to knock somewhat politely on the door. So far, the only lead he and Ron had discovered was that the Malfoys had probably fled the country after the battle nearly six months ago, possibly to stay with extended family somewhere in Germany. The Malfoy case had certainly taken less precedence over some of the more pertinent ones, such as that of the whereabouts of Fenrir Greyback. Harry shuddered, mostly over the fact that they had not yet caught the murderous werewolf and partially over the chilly November air. He knocked again, harder. He was not exactly sure what he was expecting, or why he was knocking on the door of a mansion whose former residents had most likely just went on permanent holiday. They had only just been granted permission for search and seizure from Kingsley three days ago, to which Harry and Ron had been assigned to act upon their direct superior.

"Of course." he muttered. Of course she would send them here. Harry was certainly disobeying protocol by showing up alone but seeing as Ron was probably more dangerous to him right now than an empty mansion would be, he decided against following orders. He tried the handle with no luck. He was raising his wand when the unmistakable sound of a door being unlocked made him freeze in place, wand at the ready. The door began to open. No matter what he was expecting, it certainly was not the appearance of Draco Malfoy himself.

"Potter?" He sounded as confused as Harry felt.

"Erm, ah- Auror Potter. I, er, have a search and seizure grant issued by the Minister of Magic. If you resist allowing me onto the premises, I, ah, I will have to use force."

Malfoy stared at him.

"Well, by all means then, _Auror_ Potter." He opened the door in a grand fashion and extended his arm out towards the entrance hall. Harry stepped in, not turning his back to Malfoy. This was not the plan. This was not supposed to be happening. The assignment had only been issued to them, as they were brand new Aurors, because the Manor was almost guaranteed to be empty. Almost.

"Hominum Revelio." Nothing. Well, at least it was only Malfoy that Harry had to deal with. Harry watched him close the door, keeping his wand on him. His hair had grown slightly past his shoulders and he looked malnourished. As an Auror, Harry knew that he was to immediately detain him and escort him back to the Ministry. As Harry, he completely ignored that. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"This is my _home_, Potter." But there was some underlying tone amidst the sneer that suggested Malfoy knew perfectly well he was not supposed to be here.

"I thought you lot fled the country."

"We did."

"Then why are you here?"

"Are you going to search the place or stand there and question me all night?"

"Well, if you want, we can go to the Ministry straight away and I'll question you in the interrogation room all night." Fear flickered across Malfoy's haughty, pointed face. Harry would have felt guilty for using his status in such a way, had he not been using it against someone who had already mastered the technique by age eleven.

"I came back to get some of my things," he said quietly. "I thought you were a muggle knocking on the door."

"Even I know muggles can't get through the iron gates, Malfoy. Stop lying. Who are you expecting?"

"Ah, how lovely. It took you two killing curses and a war to grow a brain."

"Listen," Harry said, feeling the familiar rage he experienced in nearly every encounter with the blonde standing in front of him. "You are a wanted man, Malfoy. The ministry has been diligently searching for you and your family since the day after the battle." Malfoy laughed at this, furthering Harry's anger.

"If you think it's so damn funny I'll detain you right now!" Harry said, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer and raised his wand higher. Malfoy stopped laughing but his sneer remained.

"If the Ministry had really been diligently searching for me they would have found me here six months ago."

Harry's brows furrowed together, eyes sternly focusing on Malfoy's features, trying desperately to detect any trace of a lie. He found nothing but truth.

"You've been here this entire time? What - what about your family?"

Draco huffed. "What about them, Potter?"

"Well, where are they? Why aren't you with them?"

"I don't know, do I? Probably somewhere in Germany. And last I checked Potter, full grown adults do not require parental supervision."

"You're right. They don't. That's not an answer to my question, though." Harry was not about to let Malfoy get away with half-truths and indirect answers. Draco must have sensed this of him, judging by the way his eyes narrowed. A moment later he spoke in a dangerously low voice.

"I refused to go with them."

"Well, who are you expecting, then?" Draco, who had clearly anticipated Harry asking why he had decided against fleeing the country with his parents, looked taken aback for a single second.

"I told you-" he started, but Harry rounded on him.

"You told me nothing. You are in no position to keep anything from me. I'll ask only once more, Malfoy. If you don't tell me the truth, I'll have you chucked in Azkaban faster than you can blink. Who. Are. You. Expecting?"

Draco stared at him blankly, his expression perfectly unreadable. "My mother, Potter. She - she brings food here once a month." The facade of Malfoy's pride wore thin and Harry could hear the shame and embarrassment in his words. He lowered his wand.

"Right. Well, I'll be getting on with the search then," he said lamely. "Stay in my sight."

"Yes, of course, lest I curse you from behind with the wand I don't have." Harry had been making his way over to the large room off to the left, directly behind Malfoy when he stopped.

"You don't have a wand?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Scarhead?" he spat. Harry considered hexing him but couldn't bring himself to hex a wandless wizard just for name calling.

"Wow. It must suck living here like a muggle."

Draco looked as though Harry had slapped him, which Harry concluded was better than any hex could have ever been. It was not often one made Draco Malfoy lose his perfect composure.

"How da- I - you stole my wand!" he sputtered. Oh, this was good, Harry thought. Getting Malfoy to _sputter_. That was definitely not something he did often, if ever.

"I'd hardly call that stealing, Malfoy. You practically gave it to me." If there was any color left in Malfoy's already pale complexion, it soon fled. He averted Harry's gaze and remained silent. Harry tried his best not to appear shocked by the reaction. Malfoy had never been one to stand down. He always had had some infuriating retort, always knew exactly what to say to get under Harry's skin, always stuck it to him until fists were flying and blood was pouring.

And Harry, only for millionth time that week alone, had to remind himself that things were very different now that Voldemort was dead. He and Malfoy were no longer attending school together. They hadn't been for quite some time, and - he realized with a pang of some strange emotion he couldn't recognize - they never would again.

"I'm starting here." Harry said abruptly, and Malfoy slowly followed him, not leaving his sight.

Harry let out a long, low sigh of frustration. He was inside the back of a closet bigger than the first floor the Dursley's modest home on Privet Drive when he had noticed it – a small, unassuming, piece of chipped paint on a bare wall.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled, arms crossed while he leaned against said bare wall, "Did it ever occur to you that it could just be chipped paint?"

"It's not. I know it. I know there's something there." Malfoy rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall to pace around the room yet again.

"I assure you I've already showed you all the Manor's secrets." Harry was still pointing his wand at the offending spot.

"Shut it, Malfoy." He desperately wished Hermione was there. While Harry knew he would come up with a solution eventually, Hermione would have long since figured it out.

"You've been at it for an entire hour now," Malfoy said smoothly, casually checking his watch. "We haven't even gotten to the best room in the house yet."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, only half paying attention, deciding on his last option. "What's that?"

"My bedroom, of course."

"Of course." he parroted quietly. "Bombarda!" Malfoy instinctively ducked for cover as Harry exclaimed the explosive spell. Nothing happened.

"Are you mad, Potter?!" he yelled, straightening up. "Did those killing curses turn your brains funny?!"

Harry turned to face him, grinning. "Look," he said, nodding towards the wall.

"It's just the stupid wall with a paint chip, Po..." Malfoy trailed off, realizing that if, in fact, it had only been _just a stupid wall_, then they would be currently surrounded in its rubble. "My father would have told me," Draco said quietly, not entirely sure if he believed himself. He stepped forward slowly and covered his palm over the spot, muttering what sounded like complicated nonsense to Harry.

"It's not the family motto," he said after a moment. "It's not any of the other Latin passphrases we use either." He took his hand away.

"It's a passphrase that'll open it though, yeah?" Harry said, standing up straight.

"It must be, Potter. Nothing you've done for the past hour has worked. You should thank Merlin you're so famous, I doubt the ministry would have let such an inept excuse for a wizard into their Auror department otherwise."

Harry could feel his jaw clenching, a heat rising to his face as he inhaled sharply, smelling stale closet air and a faint scent of expensive cologne.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" And there was that stupid smirk which Harry had the sudden urge to knock off Malfoy's face with his fist. He could feel the muscles in his right arm flex on their own accord.

"You open it, then," he gritted out.

"I don't have a wand, remember?" Draco sneered.

"Right, then figure out what passphrase your demented father set on this damn thing."

"My father is _not_ demented, Potter, he-"

"I don't give a shit, Malfoy, open up the damn wall."

Harry watched as Malfoy furiously slapped his hand over the spot on the wall. After a good ten minutes of Draco practically yelling various phrases in Latin at it, which would have been entirely comical to Harry had he not been so pissed off, he turned to glare at him.

"It's impossible."

Whatever was behind the wall had to be incredibly incriminating - so much so that Lucius wanted to make sure no one would ever find it while he remained alive…

"Malfoy," Harry said cautiously, "tell the wall your father is dead." Draco's left eyebrow quirked with curiosity while the rest of his face still expressed disdain.

"Potter, I highly doubt-"

"Just say it!"

Sighing, Draco complied. "My father, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, is dead." Malfoy's palm was still pressed against where the paint chip would have been as the wall disappeared at his words.

They were now both staring in silence at the small, dark room in front of them. Something inside was emitting a faint blue glow. Harry was sure he knew exactly what that glow was. Draco made to slowly step forward, but Harry grabbed his shoulder and stopped him from doing so.

"Don't _touch_ me, Potter," he hissed as he jerked his left shoulder out of Harry's right hand. The motion made multiple strands of his white blonde hair dislodge themselves from their neat, combed back positions and take up new residence in front of his grey eyes. Harry became slightly concerned that he noticed such a trivial thing, but the stinging emotion of hurt he felt at Draco's words positively alarmed him.

"Er, sorry," he said quickly, snapping his hand back. Draco gaped at him at for a moment, and Harry was glad to have his sudden strange emotions replaced with irritation. "What?"

"One minute you're throwing your Auror status in my face and threatening to detain me, and the next you're apologizing. You're a basket case, Potter." Harry internally agreed with him but rushed to defend himself.

"I apologized for grabbing you. Unlike you, I try to respect others."

"How revoltingly Gryffindor of you." Harry glared at Malfoy and quickly brushed past him as he walked into the previously hidden room. As his eyes adjusted, they landed on the source of the faint blue light, confirming what Harry already knew.

"That's it?" Draco asked, peering in from behind. "All that trouble over a pensieve?"

But Harry saw the shelves, filled with rows upon rows of vials, containing what Harry assumed to be extremely damning evidence against Lucius Malfoy. He cautiously picked one up and read the label:

August 28th, 1993

Harry racked his brain quickly. That was right before his second year at Hogwarts. The memory he held might very well have been the day Lucius had given the diary to Ginny in Diagon Alley. He grabbed another vial from a row further back. Unable to recall anything for the date, he turned around to Draco, still examining the vial in his hand. "What was June 5th, 1987?"

"My seventh -" he stopped. Harry looked up from the vials to Malfoy, who's expression was once again perfectly unreadable.

"Your seventh what? Birthday?"

"Yes."

"What happened that day?" Harry saw no change of emotion on Malfoy's pale, pointed face.

"None of your business, Potter."

"Actually, considering why I'm here in the first place, it really is very much my-"

"A boy I knew died."

"He _died_?" Harry repeated, aghast at both the probability of Lucius murdering the child and Draco's lack of emotion.

"That's what I said, Potter, he died. Stop repeating me."

"How did it happen?"

"He was hit by a car."

"Did you see it happen?" Malfoy only stared at Harry, so Harry started again. "Malfoy, did you see-"

"No. My father told me." Harry looked down at the memory vial in his hand again, realizing its probable contents and feeling sick.

"Who was he?" Harry asked softly, looking up again when Draco did not respond immediately. This short moment of impassive silence made Harry realize Draco only became unreadable when confronted with anything that warranted emotions beyond malice and conceit. He didn't know why he had never realized that before. That Malfoy was merely acting the way he had been _told_ to act. That Malfoy's ideologies and idiosyncrasies belonged to that of his father, expected to be dutifully carried on by his only son. Harry didn't realize until that moment just how awful having Lucius Malfoy for a father could have been.

What if Vernon Dursley had been his own father? Harry thought with a sick pang in his stomach. Would he have wound up acting like Dudley? Like Draco?

It was Draco who praised his father at every chance. It was Draco who defended his father at all costs both verbally and physically, giving his left arm to be branded by a Dark Lord who promised to murder his family should he fail in his tasks. It was Draco, Harry realized yet again, who had been desperately trying to uphold the great expectations of those surrounding him in life. Harry was flooded with a sudden onset of understanding and compassion for the other man. The desire to live up to one's expectations was something he knew all too well, regardless of how often he attempted not to care. Stepping slightly closer, he bore his emerald green eyes into Draco's, finally seeing the pain that he was desperately trying to mask.

"Malfoy," Harry said, still speaking softly although his tone had changed to reflect his newfound sympathy. "Who was he?" His change in tone did not go unnoticed by Draco, who took a step back, a small gasp escaping his charade.

"Don't," Malfoy said quietly, and then in his best expression of disgust, "Do not talk to me with that wretched tone of voice, Potter. Like you suddenly feel sorry for me."

"I just want to know who he was to you." Malfoy turned his back to him. "You said you knew him. Was he your friend?" That's what did it. Harry saw his shoulders tense at the word. Draco's emotions managed to find a crack in his mental shield and they ripped and tore through it until he was screaming.

"He was my best friend! My best, Potter, my best! And he was taken from me! The only true friend I ever had, the only friend who ever actually cared - taken from me!" He was panting. Harry wanted to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down but feared it would only worsen things.

"I'm s-"

"Don't you dare," Malfoy growled, changing his position and pointing his hand in Harry's face so quickly Harry had nearly dropped both the vials and his wand. "Don't tell me you're fucking sorry, Potter." He spat, looking crazier than Harry had ever seen. "I've never been sorry about your idiot parents, have I? Or your pathetic godfather? Or that disgusting werew-"

Harry had lunged forward, knocking Draco's back flat into the wall behind him, his right forearm pressed into his throat, effectively cutting off his speech. He was still holding his wand, it's tip now pointed over Harry's own left shoulder as he held Malfoy in place by his neck. He still held the vials in his other hand, gripping them almost tight enough to shatter the glass into his palm. Draco, being quite strong for his slender frame, pushed his hands hard against the forearm strangling him and panicked when Harry didn't budge an inch.

"Listen," he breathed in Draco's rapidly coloring face, "_Don't_ _you_ _dare_ talk about my family like that ever again." He let Draco struggle a single second longer. He then released his arm and Draco shrilly gasped in air, the purple color quickly fading from his face at the intake of oxygen. He started coughing, and Harry loudly said over him, "And I wouldn't tell you I'm sorry something happened to you unless I meant it."

"Why do you care, you lunatic?" Draco managed.

"I just do, alright!" Malfoy did not respond, only rested his hands on his slim hips while his chest heaved with the burden of returning his lungs back to their normal pace. "Malfoy, how did your friend die?" Harry said a few minutes later, still speaking gently despite everything.

"I _told_ you, he was hit by a car."

"No, I mean - that's not - you don't really believe that's what happened do you?"

"Yes. He was killed by a filthy muggle driving one of those metal hunks of rubbish."

Harry was about to say to hell with it and go back inside the room and view the damn memory for himself, or at least what he could stomach of it, when he heard a choked sob.

"That's got to be it. It must be. It must." Harry was just as shocked by Malfoy's quiet sobs as he was the first time he had heard them, still not forgiving himself for almost killing the crying man.

"I - I don't think it is," Harry very nearly whispered. Draco's soft crying continued a minute longer, his back turned to him.

"He was a muggle." Draco's voice was hoarse. Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard. He had just assumed that Draco would have never encountered a muggle willingly. He assumed the boy Draco had called his best friend could have only been another wizard. "He was a muggle, and he was my best friend." He said again, as if he had heard Harry's thoughts.

Draco turned to Harry, his eyes red and puffy, wildly reminding Harry of kissing Cho Chang, except that for some bizarre and inexplicable reason his memory decided to suddenly replace her, and Harry then saw himself kissing a wet faced Draco Malfoy. "That's why my father must have murdered him," he whispered, and Harry was utterly horrified, but not because Lucius Malfoy had killed an innocent child.

"I - I'm sorry," he whispered back, unable to shake the image in his mind. He had gone mad, he decided. Here he was, in a gigantic closet, with a wanted ex-Death Eater who was finally showing him a little bit of heart by confiding a traumatic experience to him, and all Harry could think of at that moment was how it would feel to kiss him. He felt terrible.

Harry had never, ever thought that way about another man. Except for maybe the first time he saw Bill Weasley. And that time he walked in on Seamus wanking with his bedcurtains open. Or the time Peeves flooded the Gryffindor showers and Harry ended up hurriedly using Ravenclaw's next to a very naked Roger Davies. He swayed slightly on the spot, feeling ill.

"Very sorry." he said, at a loss. Malfoy studied him for a moment, trying to detect any trace of malintent in Harry's condolence.

"It's fine. I've known it for years," he said finally with a small sniff, gracefully wiping his long fingers over his tear stained cheeks. Harry forced himself to focus.

"It's not fine, Malfoy. Your father murdered an innocent child as a sadistic birthday gift to you."

"It was punishment, Potter! Punishment for befriending a filthy muggle!"

"Is that what you thought of your best friend?" he said darkly. "Or what your father thought?"

Malfoy seemed to be internally struggling with himself, when he suddenly leapt forward and made to grab the vials from Harry's hand. Harry reacted instinctively, quickly moving the vials in his left hand away. Instead of hexing him, he dropped his wand from his right hand and grabbed Malfoy's outstretched arm, immediately pulling the other man to his chest and kissing him fiercely.

Harry was sure that in any second, Draco's fist would be colliding with his face. However, many seconds had now passed, and he was definitely not being punched. Malfoy was kissing him back. Harry's stomach was doing enough flips to earn a gold medal. Draco had actually parted his lips and Harry's heartbeat was thundering so loud in his ears he almost missed the small noise Malfoy made when their tongues first met. Harry could feel a heat that could have been fire for all he cared slowly spreading across his body. Draco's pointed chin was digging uncomfortably against his own, and their noses, smashed together side by side, were fighting to breathe the same air. Harry, still tightly gripping Draco's right arm, tasted toothpaste and something that reminded him of firewhiskey, and he instantly felt intoxicated by the fact that he was tasting Draco. Draco Malfoy. His rival. His sworn enemy. He stumbled a bit into him, losing his footing for a moment, and Draco steadied him by winding his free hand into Harry's thick, wild black hair. He pulled gently, causing Harry's head to tilt back slightly and his mouth to open further, and Draco delved his tongue in deeper. Harry registered somewhere in his mind that he had just allowed himself to moan into Draco's mouth.

There had been only one other time he had had a kiss with such intensity, and it had been from Ginny on his 17th birthday, when neither of them had been sure they would make it out of the war alive. He knew that, had they not been so rudely interrupted, that kiss would have led to his loss of virginity that day. But this - this intense, wet, suddenly open-mouthed kiss was so very different. There was no impending threat of death on either Draco or, for once in his life, Harry. There was no more war, no more Voldemort. Yet Harry felt so similar, like this was his last chance. This was it. It was his moment of now or never.

He wrapped his left arm, hand still clutching the two memory vials, around Draco's back, causing their bodies - save for the awkward space where Draco's trapped arm was - to press flush against each other. Harry wasn't sure who broke the kiss first, except that they both pulled away to gasp at the feel of their hard, fabric covered cocks suddenly pressed together. Draco's eyes were glazed over, his swollen lips standing out stark red against his pale features.

Mesmerized, Harry quickly pushed Draco, whose hand was still tangled in the dark mess of his hair, until his back was flat against the wall once more, this time grinding his hips into him and desperately trying to hold back a deep groan. Draco inhaled sharply and worried his bottom lip between his perfectly straight, white teeth to keep himself from moaning. Their mouths crashed together again, knocking the left arm of Harry's glasses off his ear from the sheer force of it. He ground his hard cock into Draco's, both still covered by too many layers of offending fabric. Draco's hips arched off the wall to meet Harry's slow grind, and he was panting quickly into Harry's mouth through the gaps in their heated kiss. The memory vials nearly slipped out of Harry's now sweaty left hand and he pressed his fist into the wall behind Draco's right ear, holding himself steady as his hips increased their pace.

"Yessss," Draco hissed into his ear, and Harry very nearly came from that alone. He desperately wanted to throw the vials, evidence be damned, to the floor and rip off every piece of clothing keeping their skin apart. Harry did not dare to stop, however, fearing that if he did so even for a moment, one of them might regain sanity.

At some point he had released Draco's right arm, which Draco had snaked around Harry's waist, his hand tightly gripping the thick fabric of Harry's robe to pull him closer. Harry, thrusting in abandon against him, closed his mouth over the soft skin of Draco's exposed neck, eliciting another moan from him.

"God," Harry whispered when he removed his lips from Draco's neck with a loud smack and saw the dark red mark he had left on the Slytherin's otherwise blemish free white skin. It drove him mad with desire to see it and his continued thrusting became erratic. Draco clutched him tighter, making desperate little sounds in-between his panting breaths that repeatedly ghosted over the shell of Harry's ear in time with their hips meeting together, and Harry was suddenly coming harder than ever beneath his robes, beneath his over-worn jeans and into his boxers. "Draco," he breathed as his orgasm subsided, his hips slowing. He heard Draco yell a second later, arching off the wall to press his cock against Harry as he came. They panted together for all but two seconds, when a faint voice seeped into the closet room through the master bedroom door.

"Draco, doll, are you alright?"

Draco gasped, and Harry ripped himself away from him so fast his glasses flew off and landed somewhere on the hardwood floor with a clatter. He quickly scrambled for his wand, his heart in his throat as his fingers closed around the wood just in time to point it directly at Narcissa Malfoy, who had appeared in the doorway.

"Draco, what are you-" she stopped cold, eyes meeting Harry Potter's flushed face instead of her son's. He saw her only as a blur until he wordlessly summoned his glasses and jammed them back on his face.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry panted, partially from scrambling for his wand and glasses and partially due to the amazing orgasm he had had only a minute ago.

"Auror Potter," she said curtly.

"Ah, so you, er - so you know that then," he said lamely.

"Doesn't everyone?" Harry heard where Draco's delicate sneer came from.

"I s'pose, if they read the papers, anyway," he muttered, more so to himself.

"Were you two fighting?" she asked loudly. Draco's eyes were wide with what must have been fear, and all Harry could manage was an 'er,' before Narcissa quickly drew her wand. "If you have hurt one hair on my Draco's head, I will-"

"Mother, no," Draco said, unfreezing himself from the wall and stepping between them. "We were - I was - Harry was searching the house and found these." Harry looked wildly down at the vials he was _still_ holding. Narcissa's expression became unreadable, and Harry realized it wasn't just Lucius who had raised Draco that way.

"From the pensieve room?" She said quietly. She looked at them both and then looked at the spot of chipped paint on the wall whose reappearance had gone unnoticed. "I've been trying to get in there for years. How did you do it?"

Draco quickly glanced at Harry, but instantly regretted it as a blush crept across his face. "I said that father was dead."

"Of course," she said to herself.

"Mrs. Malfoy, could you lower your wand?" Harry asked although it really was a command, his own at the ready to strike should the need arise. She obeyed, dropping her arm to her side and Harry slightly lowered his own.

"What did you find?"

"Memory vials. Loads of them. Labeled by date." Harry reported back. "Pretty sure these two alone are enough for two life sentences."

Narcissa nodded, her mouth in a thin line. "I see. I suspect you will arrest me now?"

Draco turned to give Harry a death glare. "Potter, don't you dare - my mother - in her own house -"

"That's quite alright, Draco dear, I've accepted my own wrongdoings and I am prepared for the consequences." She drew herself up to full height, her beautiful haughty appearance somewhat intimidating.

"Actually," Harry said quietly, "I'm going to let you slide on this one, Mrs. Malfoy."

She let the surprise show on her face only for a moment. "Take it as a returned favor for saving my life." Draco's own reservations flew out of the window and he opened his mouth in shock.

"What?" he nearly yelled. Narcissa remained silent.

"In the forest. At the end," Harry forced himself to say, really preferring to not remember the events of that day. "After Voldemort's killing curse hit me and I came 'round, he had your mum check to see if I was alive. She lied to him."

Draco, apparently forgetting who he was and how he was supposed to act, gaped from his mother to Harry, not sure who he was more in awe of - his mother, for effectively lying to Lord Voldemort, or Harry Potter, the boy who wouldn't die.

"Yes," she said. "I did." Neither of them mentioned what both knew: Narcissa only lied in his favor because Draco had still been alive.

Harry ushered them out of the closet and back into the master bedroom, all while feeling terribly uncomfortable with current state of his trousers. He moved his wand swiftly, effectively blockading the door to the closet, barring access to anyone except Ministry officials.

"Right," he said, turning towards them and speaking to Narcissa. "I - I'll be finishing up my search, then. I should be done in half an hour." She nodded her understanding. Harry caught Draco's stunned gaze briefly as he left them there, wishing he hadn't. He knew that by letting Narcissa go, he was losing Draco. While apparition wasn't impossible without a wand, it was immeasurably more difficult. If Draco had decided to get the hell out of there by side-along with his mum, Harry would not have blamed him for doing so.

"Tergeo," Harry whispered, wand pointed on himself as soon as he was alone. The cleaning spell did nothing to remove his immense guilt. He continued walking down the empty hall, arriving at a large, ornate wooden door. Draco's bedroom was the last room he had to search. Harry mentally kicked himself.

"Lumos," he said, and the light revealed a bedroom not quite as large as the master, but still big enough to house several small families. It was everything Harry expected Draco Malfoy's bedroom to be. Huge. Luxurious. Obnoxious. Across the room, there was a large, four-poster bed draped in dark green standing on a centered platform. Near the left wall, two very comfortable looking black easy chairs were set across from each other, separated by what had to be an expensive antique dark wood table. Behind the sitting area were large windows overlooking the Manor's moonlit back gardens. Harry noted the two large bookshelves, both completely filled, on the wall to his right. Another, large ornate door matching the one behind him was set in the back right corner of the room, a short distance away from the shelves. Harry thought of his cupboard under the stairs.

"Privileged twat," he mumbled. He then turned to the bookshelves, reaching up on his tip-toes to tap his wand along the spines that sat on the topmost shelf. He was muttering revealing spells under his breath, trying to utilize everything he had been taught in his recently completed Auror training. He was somewhere on the third shelf, tapping away when one of the books began to emit a soft, red glow. Harry stopped and moved back towards it, cautiously bringing his face close enough to read the spine: Secrets of the Darkest Art. Harry carefully removed the book from its place and the faint red glow disappeared. The book had been banned quite some time ago and was illegal to personally own. He opened it, needing to make sure that had been the only reason the book was revealed to him. Certain pages had been bookmarked - terrible jinxes, hexes, and other things of the sort. Harry tried to mentally note each one but forgot them all immediately when he saw the last bookmarked entry: horcruxes.

His stomach churned. Why was it marked? Who had marked it? Inhaling deeply to calm himself, Harry magically confiscated the book. He would have to interrogate Draco about that at some point. When he found nothing else on the shelves, he examined the rest of the room. Dressers, tables, chairs, the four-poster, an ornate mirror, and even a throw rug were all inspected to be perfectly normal. Harry, who had knelt on the floor to examine the rug, stood up and made his way to the door in the far-right corner. Opening it slowly, he found himself walking into a closet only half the size of the previous one and desperately hoped there would not be another suspicious spot of chipped paint. He quickly noticed another door directly to his right. He leaned over and grabbed the silver handle to open it, but it was locked.

"Alohamora." Locked. Harry tried a few other spells to no avail. He sighed angrily and began to examine the rest of Draco's large closet, his frustration apparent as he picked up items of clothing and tossed them aside. He kicked a few pairs of dress shoes that had probably cost more than his newly purchased broom out of his way to examine the walls, grateful when he found them to be just stupid walls. He maneuvered around a long, fancy looking sofa that was in the center of the closet, back to the mysterious second door. Just as Harry was considering blowing the damn thing off its hinges, he heard faint footsteps coming towards him.

Harry pointed his wand at the open closet entrance door and waited. A moment later he was once again face to face with Draco Malfoy. If Draco had been embarrassed at all by their earlier encounter, his cool, sleek appearance certainly did not show it. Harry could feel the heat rising in his own cheeks, mentally cursing himself for not being able to appear the same as Draco.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, realizing that he had hoped Draco would have fled by then.

"I still live here, Potter." Draco said, sounding just as he did when they had still been school rivals. His grey eyes roamed over the contents of his closet, now strewn about the floor.

"Good Lord, Potter, did you have to be so barbaric?" Harry's face felt like fire.

"What's behind this damn door?" he yelled, and Draco smirked.

"Are you sure you're an Auror?" Before Harry could retort he casually walked over to the door and said, "Treacle tart." Harry heard the click, and the door opened slightly. Draco stepped forward first, waving his hand in a rather flamboyant motion, causing the room's light fixtures to spring to life. Harry, whose wand was still pointed at Draco, moved in behind him to find himself in large, elegant marble bathroom.

"Why is your bathroom password protected, Malfoy?"

"I enjoy my privacy, thank you. Which, speaking of," he drawled, waving his hand again and the taps to a large soaking tub came on. "I'll be needing momentarily, Potter." Harry wished he could slip away through the floor and forget this day had ever existed.

"Fine," he managed, and he quickly began tapping his wand to things, trying to concentrate wholly on the magic at hand.

"There's nothing here," Draco continued, in that superior tone of his that made Harry's skin crawl.

"You expect me to just take the word of an ex-Death Eater?" he said in-between tapping the silver sink faucets.

"I didn't expect you to take anything from me, Potter." His words made Harry's heart sink straight into his stomach. It made him sound like he had assaulted Draco, like it hadn't been consensual. But it had been, Harry told himself, hating the way his cock stirred as he remembered Draco hissing agreement into his ear.

"I didn't take - I - you could have -" he spluttered, turning around to face him. Draco's arms were crossed, and he was half sitting on the ledge of the soaking tub. He had at some point during Harry's inspection unbuttoned the grey shirt he was wearing, and Harry could see his white cotton undershirt tight against his skin. His eyes glanced over Draco's long, pale neck and stopped over the red mark he had made there, feeling his arousal grow.

"You're so easy, Potter," Draco said with his familiar smirk, uncrossing his arms and moving to grip the ledge. Harry looked at him, panic rising. What if Malfoy told everyone? What if he used it as blackmail? Harry thought of obliviating Draco, and immediately felt horrible about himself.

"Malfoy," he began, his voice hoarse.

"Tell me, Harry," Draco said quietly, still smirking and ignoring him. "Does the she-Weasley know you get off on other men?" His wand emitted hot sparks as it took everything he had not to throw Draco into a wall.

"That's it, Malfoy, I've had it. I'm going to detain you." Harry started moving forward towards him.

"Christ, Potter, take a joke!" he exclaimed, jumping up.

"That wasn't a joke and you know it." Harry gritted through his teeth. Malfoy laughed again, and Harry jabbed the tip of his wand into Malfoy's chest.

"It isn't? So, it's just me you get off on then, is it? Have I just really been the object of your desires all these years instead of your enemy, Potter? Is that the real reason why you stalked me all of sixth year?"

"I was not stalking you," Harry lied.

"Oh yes, you were," he hissed back. "From the train to the astronomy tower, Potter, you _stalked_ me. I bet all you thought about was me."

"That's not true," he lied again quickly, horrified that Malfoy was mostly right. Other than horcruxes and his infatuation with Ginny, Harry had been obsessed with the other man. The taps to the tub magically stopped at the perfect water capacity.

"It _is_ true, isn't it?" Malfoy said breathlessly. "Did you think about me at night, too, Potter, in your dirty Gryffindor dorm?" Harry heard the memory vials in the pocket of his robe clink together as he grabbed Malfoy by his white undershirt.

"You're going to the Ministry, Malfoy. And you're going to be tried, and you're going to lose." he ground out, an inch away from Draco's face.

"You want me, Harry," he whispered, his hot breath ghosting over his face. And then, to his shock, Draco leaned forward and licked Harry's parted lips.

Harry should have punched him. He should have thrown Malfoy away in disgust. He should not have closed his eyes and moaned. Catching himself, Harry's eyes snapped back open, and Malfoy was smiling. Not smirking. Not even sneering. There was a smile on the blonde's mouth, and Harry was momentarily stupefied by his beauty.

"Stupid Gryffindor," Draco murmured, but Harry heard no malice in his voice. He looked into grey eyes, letting the fabric of Draco's undershirt slip from his hand, and suddenly, like someone was connecting a jigsaw puzzle in his mind, everything clicked together.

He knew why Draco didn't reject him earlier, why Draco had tormented him endlessly at school, why Draco couldn't kill Dumbledore when he had the chance. He knew why Draco didn't give him away when the snatchers had brought them here. The pure emotion of it all struck Harry like a bludger and Harry's mind whirled, thinking of Ron and Hermione's ceaseless bickering for years on end, of Dumbledore's tears of pain and regret over Grindelwald, of Severus Snape, who went to his grave still hopelessly in love with his mother.

"Have you figured me out yet, Potter?" he said, so quietly Harry almost didn't hear.

"Draco," he choked out softly over the lump that had formed in his throat. Harry willed the tears threatening to escape his impossibly green eyes back.

"I think you have," Draco gently pushed Harry's wand arm down, and Harry let him. Draco's hands found Harry's shoulders and he slowly pushed off the thick robe. It fell in the shape of a half circle on the marble floor. Harry felt Draco's palms reappear on his chest. He trailed long, delicate fingers down over the material, stopping at the waistband of Harry's jeans.

His charade was finally over. He looked to Harry searching for an answer, and Harry gave it to him with a kiss. It was nothing like earlier, no ferocity, no frustration. It was slow and sweet and filled with unspoken understanding and need. Draco's hands gathered the fabric of Harry's t-shirt, lifting it out of his jeans. It snagged on the metal back of the button closure, and Draco broke their kiss.

"For fuck's sake," he whispered, both of their heads bowed as Draco tried to free the fabric. Harry laughed, the material came loose and Draco quickly removed it, a small smile on his own lips. He inhaled sharply as he laid eyes on Harry's shirtless torso. He was lightly tanned and muscular, although not in a bulky way. A light trail of dark hair began beneath his belly button, getting thicker the further down it went. Draco needed to touch him.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he let his hands roam up over Harry's biceps and shoulders, bringing them down to wander over his chest. His fingertips grazed over dark nipples, and he felt Harry's breathing quicken. He gently slid his neatly manicured fingernails down Harry's abdomen, watching with awe as the muscle beneath flexed involuntarily. His fingers reached the waistband of Harry's jeans once more, but they didn't stop this time. They ghosted over Harry's cock, hard underneath the denim. Harry gasped at the feather-light touch, sending a slight shiver through his body. Malfoy leaned in and kissed Harry again, swallowing the groan he made as he pressed his palm down, rubbing over the material. Draco could feel his hand getting hot from the friction of it.

"Please," Harry begged against Draco's lips, and Draco's own cock ached from hearing it. He wanted to hear Harry Potter begging him forever. His fingers flew to undo the fly of Harry's jeans, pulling them down with himself as his knees reached the dark marble of his bathroom floor.

Harry's cock sprung up as soon as it was free from its denim prison, tenting the front of his simple, scarlet red boxers. Wasting no time, he curled his fingers over the elastic and pulled them down, purposely letting them catch on Harry's cock so that it slapped the skin of his lower abdomen as it sprang back up. The tip of Harry's uncircumcised, thick cock reached somewhere just below his belly button, beautifully curving towards its owner. Draco wrapped his right hand around the base of it, feeling the black nest of hair brush against his palm. He pulled it down towards him, the head already peeking through the foreskin and glistening.

Draco looked up and caught Harry's intense gaze as he slowly wrapped his lips around the first inch of Harry's cock. Harry must have been holding his breath, because he quickly expelled all the air in his lungs.

"Shit," he breathed, trying hard not to thrust his hips into Draco's hot, wet mouth. The sight of the sleek, blonde man on his knees, Harry's cock slowly sliding between his pink lips, was almost too much. Harry was sure that if he hadn't come earlier, he would have came right then all over Draco's beautiful, pale face. Draco made a small noise around his cock as his lips moved further forward, trying to take all of him in. It reverberated through Harry, making him gasp and lean forward, putting a hand on Draco's left shoulder to steady himself. Draco felt Harry's pubic hair tickle the tip of his nose, his lips touching his hand he still had wrapped around the base. He pulled his lips back to the head, sucking as he went.

Harry's moan echoed off the tile walls, and he moved his hand from Draco's shoulder to his head, threading his fingers through white blonde hair. Draco removed his hand from Harry's cock, grabbing both of his hips and inhaling deeply through his nose as he took Harry all the way into his throat. Harry cried out, gripping blonde hair tightly in both of his fists. Draco pulled back quickly and sucked him in entirely again, and again, and –

"I can't," Harry gasped, "Draco, I-" Draco pulled his mouth off Harry with a smack, not wanting Harry to come just then. He quickly stood up and brought his mouth down on Harry's, kissing him with fierce eagerness.

Harry's hands were scrambling over Draco. They hurriedly pushed his open grey shirt off and went flying to undo Draco's belt. Harry pulled it free from the loops, and the buckle clanked loudly on the floor. Harry struggled with Draco's fly, and Draco's hands immediately went to aid him, releasing his lips from Harry's with a hiss when his cock was freed. His trousers slowly slid off his hips and piled around his feet. Draco wasn't wearing any underwear.

Harry marveled at Draco's cock, similar yet so different from his own. He was circumcised, thinner and slightly longer than Harry. The skin of his cock was just as pale as the rest of him, except for the head, dark pink and leaking. Harry gingerly wrapped a hand around him and Draco let his head fall back, panting. Harry's eyes fell to the mark he had left on Draco's neck again and he was suddenly filled with an insane urge to feel Draco's hard, bare prick against his own. He stepped out of his trainers and jeans, nearly tripping, closing the distance between them as he wrapped one hand around both of their cocks.

"Fuck, Potter," Draco gasped, resting his forehead against Harry's and thrusting his hips up into the exquisite pressure. Harry's eyes locked onto Draco's and he just began to speed his hand up when he felt the other man grab his wrist, stopping him. Harry, unable to stop himself, whined, already desperate for release.

"Not here," Draco said softly, pulling Harry by his wrist to follow him. He was naked except for the thin, tight white undershirt, and Harry let his eyes roam over Draco's back down to his pale, perfectly rounded arse. He was being lead out of the bathroom, back into the closet and into Draco's bedroom. He watched his surroundings change through a lust filled daze when the reality of it all struck him. He was most definitely about to have sex, something he had only done enough times to count on one hand, with Draco Malfoy. His school rival. A Slytherin. An ex-Death Eater. Another man. A man who, he reminded himself, had just practically confessed his love to Harry less than thirty minutes ago.

"Draco," he said in a small voice, feeling his heart ache. "We shouldn't."

"Why not?" he responded, no intention of stopping. He was pulling Harry up the single step of the platform to his bed. The seduction in his voice snaked around Harry, cutting off the circulation to his reasoning abilities.

He knew exactly why they shouldn't, but Draco was leaning back onto his bed, his grey eyes dark with lust, slowly pulling Harry by the wrist on top of him, and Harry couldn't bring himself to stop the other man. He found his left knee pressed between the soft flesh of Draco's alabaster white thighs, and Draco had released his wrist to wrap his arm around Harry's waist, pushing his hand into the small of his back. The motion caused Harry to bend forward and Draco leaned in to kiss him. He let his tongue explore Draco's mouth and felt Draco's hand sliding further from the small of his back to grope his arse, wondering how on Earth he could have ever thought of trying to prevent this.

Their cocks brushed lightly together, both still hard and leaking with need, and Draco moaned into Harry's mouth. Harry laid his palm flat against Draco's chest, aggravated by the fabric he found there, and reached down to grab the bottom hem. "Don't," Draco gasped, quickly pulling away and grabbing Harry's hand.

"Why not?" Harry echoed back to him in the same seductive tone, and he swore he could see Draco's pupils dilating as the grip on his hand was slowly released. Harry lifted the fabric up and over Draco's head, his hair falling over his eyes. A deep blush was creeping across his sharp features, slowly moving down his neck and prominent collar bones to spread over the top of his bare chest. Harry's eyes followed it and then he realized why Draco had wanted to stop him.

A thin, shiny, scar curved across his chest down to his flat abdomen, like someone had swung a sword upwards and slashed him open. Like _Harry_ had swung a sword and slashed him open. It pained him to see the evidence of his own stupidity. He touched his fingers to the top of it near Draco's shoulder, tracing its diagonal path down. Draco's breathing hitched.

"Dr-" he started to apologize, but the wind was knocked from him as Draco somehow flipped their positions at lightning speed. He straddled Harry's hips, his hands pinning his arms down on either side of his head.

"I said I don't want your apologies, Potter," he growled into Harry's ear, rocking his hips into him. Harry groaned as their cocks pressed together again. He caught sight of the fading scar of the Dark Mark still visible on Draco's left forearm and decided he had gone completely insane. "Beg me, Harry," Draco whispered, and Harry obliged.

"Please," he moaned desperately. "Please, Draco, please." Draco dropped his head as a shiver ran through him, his hair feeling like strands of silk on Harry's chest. Then two long, delicate fingers were being pushed past Harry's lips.

"Suck them," he hissed. Harry did, wetting Draco's fingers with his tongue, sure that he had never been harder in his life. When Draco removed them, Harry, feeling slightly afraid, was sure he was going to use them to penetrate him. Instead, Draco reached behind himself and made a deep noise in the back of his throat.

Harry's brain reeled. He assumed it would have been Draco's nature to dominate Harry, to take him, use him, and Harry had been prepared to let that happen. But there Draco was, knees digging into either side of Harry's hips, fingering himself for him. For Harry.

Harry brought his hands up to rest on Draco's biceps as the blonde man panted, leaning over to press his cheek into Harry's shoulder. A moment later Draco removed his fingers and held out his hand towards an out of reach bedside table drawer. The handle rattled slightly and stopped. Draco huffed loudly in frustration.

Wordless, wandless magic was near impossible, even for something as simple as a summoning charm. Harry was impressed the drawer had even reacted at all, until he felt the bed shift under him as Draco removed himself from Harry, and Harry cursed the damn drawer and everything inside it for not obeying Draco. He watched as Draco quickly got close enough to wrench it open, dig inside for a second and return with a small vial. Breathing deeply, he uncorked it and poured a small amount of clear liquid into his right palm.

Harry's heart was hammering the inside of his chest. He was seconds away from treading into extremely unfamiliar territory. Although very different with another man, the kissing, grinding, blow jobs - he had had his fair share of that with Ginny. But this. This was new. He wasn't completely oblivious to what was about to happen, of course. It's not as if he had never seen porn. He knew why Draco had made the effort to get the lube. Harry watched him uncork the vial and pour some into his hand, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that this wasn't the first time Draco had done this. Jealousy surged through him just as Draco's slick hand closed around his cock, making his hips buck involuntarily. In a moment Draco was once again straddling his hips, and Harry was sure his lungs were refusing to function properly. Draco reached behind himself, holding Harry's cock straight as he began to sink backwards. The head of Harry's cock slipped past Draco's opening once, twice, and then past the point of no return. Small sounds were being wrenched from Draco's throat as he took Harry in, slowly sinking further down. Harry watched Draco's pained expression with as much concern as he could muster through the lust that consumed him.

"Draco," he whispered, his own voice sounding far away. Draco opened his eyes and stopped, staring at Harry beneath him as if he couldn't believe their current reality. "Draco, are you alright?" He rested his hands gently on his hips and was answered by the trademark Malfoy smirk. Without warning, Draco let himself drop, burying Harry's cock inside himself in an instant. Harry threw his head back and yelled. "Shit," he gasped, his eyes watering from the sudden intensity. He had never felt anything so hot, so tight, in all his life.

"Are _you_ alright, Potter?" Draco breathed back, and Harry could hear that smirk in his tone. It ignited something in him, something fierce, something that couldn't forget that Draco Malfoy had once been his enemy. Harry answered back by thrusting his hips up, causing Draco to lose balance and fall forward. Harry seized his opportunity, quickly bringing his knees up and his feet flat on the bed. Draco's face, inches away from his own, struggled to keep composure.

That's exactly what Harry wanted, he realized, slowly pulling out from him as much as he could. That's always what he had wanted. To make Draco's composure disappear. To get the other boy to show his true emotions. To completely undo Draco Malfoy. He shoved his hips upwards roughly, his hands forcing Draco's hips down, their skin meeting with a loud slap. A strangled moan came from Draco, but it wasn't enough. Harry wanted to make him scream. Draco had already pulled his hips up, and quickly slid back, again, and again, and Harry was losing himself in Draco, his own composure already non-existent as he moaned in abandon under him. He thrust his hips up to meet Draco, and that something that had been ignited became ablaze when Draco licked his lips for a single second, the image sending Harry into a craze.

His hands crept up Draco's back, hooking over his shoulders from behind, using the leverage to sit up. His cock nearly slipped out as Draco, taller than him by an inch, now had to straddle Harry's lap upright. They stayed that way for only a few seconds before Harry was pushing Draco onto his back. He spread Draco's thighs apart, kneeling between them as he pushed his cock back inside completely, making them both gasp. Draco's hips came up to meet his, gripping Harry's biceps as they began to rock together.

The sounds of panting, soft moans, the bed creaking quietly, and the rhythmic slapping of skin was incredibly intoxicating. Even more so was the sight of Draco beneath him, drastically different from his usual pristine condition. His blonde hair was mussed against the bed, flawless white skin blotched with red, and he was trying his best to trap any moan trying to escape. Harry could tell Malfoy was still holding back. He was still forcing himself to keep his composure, a certain kind of rigidity he was taught to display from infancy. It only furthered Harry's desire to dissolve all of that, to see what was hiding beneath. Amidst a fire raging within himself, he bent his head down to kiss Draco. The intimacy of the act caught Draco off guard, and he let himself whimper into Harry's mouth, the sound sending tremors straight through him. As they parted, Harry felt Draco's left hand release its vice grip from his bicep to reach between them and fist his own cock hurriedly, moaning desperately against Harry's lips as he did so. Enthralled by this, Harry sped up, grunting "God, yes, Draco," and pounding his cock deep into him. Harry felt Draco's hand between them still, noticing some unreadable expression appear on his face once again, even during this lapse in both their sanities, and Harry groaned in frustration.

"Draco," he panted, watching Draco's eyes refocus on his from somewhere far away. "Please, Draco, just let go." It was like Harry had figured out Draco's very own passphrase, opening the wall Draco had been hiding behind. He was suddenly wrapping his legs around Harry's waist and running his free hand through his wild, jet black hair, damp from sweat.

"Yes," he moaned. "Yes, Harry." His left hand, still wrapped around his cock, began moving rapidly again. His grip in Harry's hair tightened, pulling him down for another kiss. It was difficult to breathe through it, even more difficult to keep their lips together as Harry's cock drove into Draco's perfect arse. Harry's brows knit together in concentration as he pulled away, refusing to be the first to come a second time.

"Harry," Draco moaned again, threatening Harry's hold on himself, a desperate sound escaping him as he felt the immense pleasure building its way through his body. "Harry," Draco gasped, his hand flying over his cock between them. "Look at me."

Harry's eyes met Draco's, and he was instantly reminded of Snape and his similar look of longing and love and so many other unspoken things, and Harry realized with a shock that it _was_ the same. It broke his concentration, his mind, his heart to see it so clearly before his vision suddenly blurred, whether from pleasure or the beginnings of tears he didn't know. Draco was clenching impossibly tight around his cock, his heels digging almost painfully hard into Harry's lower back, and he felt his toes curling, his legs tensing, his hips shuddering from the sheer force of it, forgetting to warn Draco that he was coming because Draco was already digging his nails into Harry's shoulders and screaming. He had let go of his cock and Harry could feel hot spurts of come splashing against his abdomen as his own cock pulsed with wave after wave of release inside Draco. He arched his back, pushing his cock as deep as Draco's body would allow, throwing his head back as he slowly rode out the last of his orgasm. Draco shook beneath him, filled with Harry's come and his lean torso slick with his own.

"Fuck," Harry breathed, his muscles going slack against his will, collapsing against the other man. His softening cock slipped out slightly as their position changed, and Draco bit his bottom lip as he felt Harry's come leaking from him onto his silk bedcover. "I'm s-sorry about, ah-" Harry stammered, entirely unsure if it had been okay to come inside Draco since Ginny had never, ever let him finish like that during his few experiences with her.

"It's okay," Draco said, his voice still breathless and somewhat hoarse. Wincing, he lowered his legs to the bed and caused Harry's cock to slip out completely. Draco's words soothed Harry's concern and thoughts began flooding back to his mind while his sated body relaxed.

Sex had never been like that at all with Ginny, now that he thought about it. Not even their first time, which Harry had always regarded as being quite amazing up until a few moments ago. Being with Draco today alone was the most wonderful, intense, ridiculous, beautiful, passionate experience he had ever had. It made his heart ache and left his mind in a confused panic. If he really had figured it out correctly earlier, just how long had Draco been in love with him? And if he stopped lying to himself, when had he started to love Draco back?

Draco inhaled deeply and sighed, his chest causing Harry to rise and fall with him, replacing his current thoughts with new concern that he was somehow crushing Draco's lithe frame with his own. He began to push himself up, their skin unsticking as he turned himself over, letting his back hit the bed next to Draco. The air around them smelled like sex, sweat and a sudden awkwardness. Why did he ever let himself kiss Draco in that god forsaken closet? Why, after so many years, was he just now admitting to himself he loved the other man? How the fuck was he supposed to do this now?

"Mal- er, Draco." Draco didn't look at him.

"It's alright, Potter, call me whatever you want. I'm not expecting a sudden confession of love just because we fucked." Harry felt his heart drop hearing Draco revert to his cold, cruel tones so quickly.

"It was more than just that and you know it." he replied, his voice low.

"Was it now?" Draco said, his voice falsely inquisitive. "Or were you just thinking with your dick?"

"Draco. Stop." Harry demanded, sitting up to look at him. Harry wanted to scream that he hadn't been, that this had been a long time coming. He wanted to grab him and kiss him and give Draco that confession of his love - to hell with however melodramatic it may be - that he knew Draco was secretly hoping for. Harry wanted to. He did.

Draco still wouldn't meet his gaze. "Look, I - we - we shouldn't have -" Although it was the truth, it was the wrong thing to say. Draco shot up, staring him right in the face, eyes ablaze.

"Leave, Potter."

"I - Draco, I can't just -" he watched Draco turn away quickly, nearly leaping off his bed as Harry's heart sank further by the second. Draco grabbed his undershirt from the floor and practically ripped it down over his head, taking long, fast strides back to his closet where Harry knew he'd be retrieving the rest of his clothes. Harry, whose mind had been clouded with a hundred emotions, suddenly realized with a shock that both the vials and his wand were currently discarded with his cloak on the bathroom floor.

Harry jumped off the bed and raced after Draco. It had only been a few seconds, but Draco was already standing in the doorway to his extravagant bathroom, Harry's wand in one hand and his cloak in the other.

"Coming after this, Potter?" he sneered. Harry's heart had jumped from his stomach into his throat, and he gulped down heavily. "You know," Draco drawled, "You really ought to have been trained more. You're still just as stupid as you were before they inducted you into the force."

Harry waited for his usual anger and hatred for Draco to flare, but it never came. He stood there, silent and completely naked in front of him and almost completely defenseless, as he heard Ron somewhere in the depths of his mind reminding him he could just punch Draco on the nose if he had to. Draco, obviously not getting the response he had been trying to elicit from Harry, continued.

"They sent you here, a presumably empty household, with a search and seizure warrant, did they not, _Auror_ Potter? Pity. It looks to me that the only thing you've successfully managed to seize was my arse. Do they award badges for debauchery?"

"Draco," he said, barely above a whisper. It made Malfoy falter for a single second.

"I've been with you all day while you've torn apart my home searching for evidence to damn me and my family, I've told you things today I thought I would never, ever say aloud even to myself, I even gave myself to you, Potter, and you still come running in here after me like I'm - like I'm just some fucking worthless criminal ready to run at my first chance? I could have taken your wand ages ago, Potter. I could have killed you and fled. I could have left with my mother, when you idiotically left me with her without realizing I could apparate away with her, but I didn't, did I?"

"I was hoping you would." Harry said, still speaking quietly.

"What?"

"That's- that's why I left. I thought you would flee with her by side-along."

"You wanted me to leave? Why?" Harry's heart panged with guilt, but Draco spoke again before Harry could answer. "You know what? I don't care. You're pathetic, Potter," but it didn't sound genuine at all. He sounded afraid. Unsure. Hurt. "What were you even thinking I'd do? Vanish the vials? There's a hundred more you've sealed off. There's probably enough evidence left in there to put my father away for all of eternity. Or maybe I'd apparate away with your precious wand? Maybe your clothes, too, Potter, so that your fellow aurors, just as brilliant as you, I'm sure, would have to rescue you from my bedroom while you're starkers. For fuck's sake." He threw Harry's things at him and turned on his heels back into the bathroom, where seconds later Harry heard the sloshing of water.

Harry stared at the empty doorway for a moment, trying to make up his mind. Cursing himself for everything that was, is, and would be, he stepped over his belongings into the bathroom. Draco was in the tub, still full of hot, steaming water from over an hour ago. A delicate fragrance was wafting from the steam, slightly fogging Harry's glasses. He stood next to the tub as Draco let his head fall back into the water with a sigh, his white blonde hair darkening to a pale gold and sticking to his neck and shoulders as he came back up. He was a beautiful, mesmerizing sight and Harry couldn't help but stare.

"I thought I told you to leave, Potter."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Harry grimaced. "Because I'm in love with you." Draco's hands, which had been calmly resting against the sides of the enormous porcelain tub suddenly gripped the edges as if he were hanging on for dear life.

"Y-you've gone mad, Potter. You're insane," he said, looking up at him.

"Yeah, probably."

"You - I - you're not really, you don't actually - it's just lust, just lust clouding your mind. You can't, you don't -" Harry was pretty sure he had just broken something inside of Draco.

"Love you?" he finished for him. "Yeah, it's not just lust, Draco. I'm sure of that, though I'm not really sure when it happened. Maybe when you didn't give me, Ron and Hermione up to Voldemort? Or maybe it _was_ during 6th year. Or before 4th year, in the woods at the Cup, when you were really just warning us to get out of there. Maybe it was even on the train, Draco, when you offered friendship to me before anyone else."

"Or maybe it was in Madam Malkins," Draco whispered. "The first time you saw me." Harry knelt next to the tub, Draco's eyes following his movement.

"Yeah, maybe," he said softly, a small smile on his lips, sure that Draco had just given him the answer to when he had fallen in love with Harry. "Maybe I've always loved you."

"Always," Draco repeated, and the word hit Harry hard, swallowing over an immense lump welled up in his throat yet again. He leaned forward, kissing Draco gently. There was no sexual tension this time, even when their lips parted and the tips of their tongues met. At some point Harry's mind registered that Draco was silently crying, and he climbed into the hot water behind him, wrapping his arms around his slim frame. "Love you, love you, love you," Draco whispered, his lips grazing Harry's shoulder as he spoke.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way or how long they spent bathing together. He wasn't sure what time it was, late night or very early morning when they slowly made their way back to Draco's bed, pausing only briefly on the way to grab his things in the hand Draco wasn't holding. He wasn't sure how long he lay awake curled up against him, listening to his steady breathing deepen with sleep. Harry could see the expansive windows beyond the rise and fall of Draco's back, and he watched the sky start to lighten.

Everything in Harry's life had always happened so suddenly. Suddenly he was a wizard. Suddenly he was famous. Suddenly he had friends. Suddenly he was defeating a basilisk and he had an innocent godfather. Suddenly Cedric was dead and Voldemort was alive. Suddenly Sirius was dead too, suddenly there were horcruxes and suddenly Harry was one of them. But none of it had all been really sudden, had it? He had been a wizard all his life and famous since before he could remember. His friendships had been built through trials and tribulations. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets had been planned, Sirius had always been his reckless, innocent Godfather, and Voldemort would have ordered anyone who had wound up in that graveyard to be murdered regardless. Even his return had not happened suddenly. It was always going to happen as long as he had his horcruxes. As long as Harry had been one of them, as long as Dumbledore had known.

No, the events of his life had never happened suddenly. He hadn't suddenly called things off with Ginny. He had called things off ages ago at Dumbledore's funeral for his self-planned death. He had known then what he still knows now. He hadn't just randomly slept with Draco Malfoy out of nowhere, all the sudden - it was after years of pent up frustration and repressed attractions that finally came to fruition. And he hadn't suddenly fallen in love with the man sleeping soundly next to him. It had happened over the course of those years, over the realizations that they weren't all that different in the end.

What truly had happened suddenly were the many acquirements of the knowledge of such things that had always been. How much more, Harry wondered, was there to his life that he would suddenly gain the knowledge of? Sunlight flooded the room and Draco stirred in his sleep as Harry watched on, deep in his thoughts. How many others would there be in his life who- be it either from fear, or pain and suffering, or the right time being reached, or even after guilt could no longer be withstood- would reveal to Harry an answer to a question he hadn't yet asked? How many times would he himself have to do the very same?

Draco woke with a small jolt, turning and blinking at Harry rapidly with bleary grey eyes. Harry stared back, not sure of what to say.

"You know," Draco spoke first, his voice deeper than usual from sleep, "for some reason, a part of me thought you would leave, Potter."

"I couldn't do that," Harry said truthfully, his heart breaking at Draco's smile.

"The other part figured you'd be too noble." Harry managed a small smile in return, and then Draco was slowly leaning into him, giving Harry all the time in the world to change his mind, to turn away, to flee, but he didn't. He knew he wanted it, despite everything. He selfishly let Draco kiss him and it was terribly wonderful.

"I hope you know this doesn't change who I am, Harry," Draco breathed over his wet lips.

"I know," Harry whispered back.

"Good. We're on the same page, then, Scarhead," he said, his trademark smirk appearing on his lips that were still only an inch away from Harry's. And although it was true, that these recent occurrences would never change the fact that Draco would always be Draco and Harry would always be Harry, things had changed, and things would still change.

"I'm famished," he said dramatically, rolling over and gracefully leaping out of his bed. Harry slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed without half the grace Draco had just displayed. He watched him walk to the closet. Harry picked up his clothes off the floor and began to pull them on. "All I had yesterday before you showed up was a slice of gruyere and half a glass of firewhiskey."

Harry pulled on his robe, the vials clinking, a reminder he had no need for.

"Mother probably left food in the kitchens if you're hungry," he continued, head down, returning from his closet while he buttoned up his vest. "It's probably not much, just some eggs, breads, cheese and the like, but you're welcome to-" Draco stopped, having finished buttoning his vest and finally looking up at Harry, who was pointing his wand directly at him.

"It doesn't change who I am, either," he said quietly. "Incarcerous." Draco's eyes grew wide as thin ropes suddenly flew from Harry's wand, wrapping themselves snakelike around his arms and chest. Harry took a deep breath, unable to avoid the inevitable any longer.

"Draco Malfoy, you are hereby under arrest by order of the Ministry of Magic."


End file.
